


Built on Compromise

by gubby



Series: Unholy Union [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Demon AU, Demons, F/M, Fluff, Kinda, Marriage, Morning After, demon!arthur morgan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:49:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26254432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gubby/pseuds/gubby
Summary: The altar is calling part 3You wake up in hell
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Series: Unholy Union [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757644
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Built on Compromise

When you next awake, Arthur is no longer next to you. The curtains of the canopy bed are still drawn, which is probably why you slept in so late. You assume it’s late. Arthur is already up. Then again, there is no day and night in hell, is there? You hear an accusatory tone from a nearby room.

“Oh, so first you don’t tell me you got hitched, now you won’t even let me meet her? This is the kinda thanks I get, after raising you like my own son?”

You get up and find the room has changed, the illusion no longer present. The walls and floor are a deep blackish blue like obsidian, the ceiling glimmers with embedded gems that seem like they’re supposed to emulate stars. The furniture is matching, and there’s too-red light coming through the gaps in the drapes. There’s a vanity against the far wall, on it is your nightgown neatly folded, next to another piece of folded clothing. Interestingly enough, it’s white, with intricate embroidered symbols and motifs you don’t recognize.

You slip it on to find it comes to your knees, and it looks to be a tunic or dress, very loose, but it would have been much scarier if it was perfectly form-fitting. You use a nearby basin and pitcher to give your face a quick wash, and you notice after licking your lips that the water tastes very… mineral-y. 

“ _ Now _ , I didn’t say anything like that. She just so  _ happens _ to be asleep right now ‘sall.”

“I see-- tired her out on the wedding night? That’s my boy!” This statement is accompanied by haughty laughter and embarrassed blustering. 

You pad your way to the door and carefully open it, hoping not to make too much noise. The door opens directly into a sort of sitting room or foyer; Arthur’s back is to you while another demon is casually standing across from him. Arthur is again in his loincloth, hair still mussed from last night, while the other demon is dressed in a cleanly pressed white shirt and a black and red vest, not unlike how you’d see your father’s friends dressed at social events. 

“Now, I didn’t mean it like that—“  


The other demon’s eyes flicker away from Arthur and behind him, landing squarely on you as you come up to them, gingerly grabbing onto Arthur’s wrist to try to get his attention. He swivels his waist to see you standing at his side, in the dress he picked out for you, no less. The other demon’s eyes light up kindly, his face stretching in a smile that shows his crow’s feet, but at the same time his expression is not unlike the one you make when you notice the waiter walking by is finally carrying the tray with your order on it. 

“Oh, now Arthur, you didn’t say she was such a sweet little thing! Salutations, young lady!” The demon rather assertively grabs the hand at your side, kneeling somewhat to get at eyes level with you and kissing the back of your hand. He waits for a moment, in quite an obvious fashion, before you yip out your name and introduction just like you do at all of your mother’s parties, sounding like a little dog in the most polite way possible. The demon barks out another startling laugh before standing back up to full height and looking down on you. 

“Call me Dutch, miss. I’m an old friend o’ yer husband’s,”

“ _ Old  _ is right—“

“And by that, he means I can recollect all  _ sorts  _ of stories from when he was a snot nosed brat!”

“ _ C’mon _ now, that ain’t necessary— darlin’, you hungry? I’m sure our guest is just  _ on his way out _ . Now ya seen her, y’happy old man?” 

“I outta punish you for speaking to me like that, in front of a lady, no less. But seein’ as it’s your honeymoon, I’ll forgive you and get out of your hair,” Dutch turns back to you with a less-than-innocent expression. 

“Delighted to meet you, little lady. This fool ever give you any trouble, you’ll be sure to give  _ ol’  _ Dutch a call, won’t you?” He disappears before you in a mass of dark, smokey tendrils that appear at his feet, leaving behind a small card with a sigil on it. You hear Arthur mutter  _ drama queen _ under his breath at the display. 

Upon picking up the card and thinking of where to put it, you discover that your dress has pockets, making this pretty much the coolest day of your life. 

—————-

For breakfast, you have a bowl of berries and pomegranate seeds with a side of fresh cream, honey, and oats. Despite its simplicity, it tastes absolutely  _ decadent _ . In between spoonfuls of food, Arthur lets you play with his hands, exploring the lines in his knuckles and palms, stroking his claws, fiddling with his rings. He’s unoccupied by food, and seems content to let you do everything at your own pace. Inwardly, he’s overjoyed by this simple act of intimacy. 

“Do you need to eat? Is that like, an insensitive question?” He chuckles. 

“Nah, not really. Though there are a  _ few _ things I like to eat for fun.” He winks with a kind of playboy smile he hasn’t made in decades, then immediately cringes at his own attempt to be smooth (considering just the other night, he  _ cried _ his way out of consummating his own damn marriage). Luckily, the innuendo seems to have gone entirely over your head. 

“So why do you have the food? For guests?”

“They’re offerin’s. Ain’t as much as they used to be, but some mortals still worship us demons. I even get prayers every now and again, if you can believe it.” He sighs listlessly. “Food don’t go bad down here, so it just piles up. ‘M glad someone can enjoy it.”

He reaches across the table and grabs your chin, using his thumb to wipe some cream from your bottom lip. Your tongue darts out to lick his thumb, a bold move on your part, and one which clearly surprises him. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows raised for a moment, before his face relaxes into a lazy smirk, and he chuckles. Your face heats up, and you lower your eyes, avoiding his gaze. He can’t help but keep staring anyways-- he loves to see the pink on your darling little face.

“So what’s the verdict, little wife? You stayin’ down here with me, or goin’ back up to your own kind?” He can’t hide the disappointment in his voice at the idea of you leaving. Your eyes flick back up to him in a way that reminds him that you’re more than meets the eye.

“This-- you. You win hands down. Of course, I’d like to not leave my parents totally hanging, if possible. They’d be heartbroken if I just vanished…” Arthur’s smile reaches his eyes at your words, he gets up so quickly he nearly knocks over his chair, taking a couple quick strides before scooping you up by the waist. You grip his shoulders instinctively as he lifts you much higher than you’ve ever been lifted, twirling you, before handling you to sit on his forearm. You’re at eye level with him now, with his free hand on the back of your neck, and he leans in to plant a sweet kiss on your lips, coaxing you into opening your mouth so he can get his tongue in. You feel like he’s trying to devour you, and he only breaks the kiss to further pepper your face with kisses. The adoration, the worship, the gratitude, the  _ love _ in his eyes is unmistakable. 

“‘Course we can work something out, angel. You’ve got my word.”

You wake up in your bed at home. 


End file.
